


Emetophobia

by caseopncaseshut



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tim is Kayaking, jon never confessed his feelings and is sad, jontim angst, jontim sad times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caseopncaseshut/pseuds/caseopncaseshut
Summary: hi this is my first fic I've ever written so if you have any suggestions please leave them in the comments. for more tomfoolery from me check out my tumblr @yikesmlm
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Kudos: 16





	Emetophobia

Jon was probably a bit emetophobic, the anticipation of the throwing up often being almost more unpleasant than the act itself. It was disgusting to him in a way that ran bone deep. He would rather lay in bed unmoving for hours than give in. But that didn’t bother him right now, as he lay on the bathroom floor, his mouth and throat burning from puking up everything he had eaten in the last 24 hours.

…

Maybe it was stupid thinking that listening to a statement would help. He had grabbed it hastily before he left work, not really thinking about why. His mind felt hazy as he did it and he nearly forgot he had it until he was rifling around in his bag looking for his phone. It had been a rough few days. Few weeks if he was being honest. But today was especially bad and he passed his hours at the Institute staring at the wall of his office, unable to keep the memories of Yarnmouth at bay.

It was mostly guilt that was pulling at him. It creeped through his body in a way that reminded him too much of how the worms squirmed through the flesh of Jane Prentiss. There was only one coherent thought that played on loop in his head, that he should have died instead of Tim. It was that simple. Survivor’s guilt, he was smart enough to recognize it. But that didn’t mean that it hurt any less.

Every day that he had gone into work since, he waited out the hours until he could go home. He tried burying himself in work, but today his thoughts were too loud to be drowned out by statements. So, he just stared at the wall and let everything wash over him. He thought of everything he wanted to tell Tim. Everything he wanted to confess but would now never get the chance to. It didn’t make him feel any better.

But as he left, he grabbed the tape recorder. Just one off the top of the pile closest to him. Despite being notoriously neat, his office had fallen into disarray lately, and he couldn’t bring himself to tidy up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the words enough to read and record a statement, but he wanted to listen to something to feign some sort of productivity in the face of his breakdown. So, as he wallowed in his own misery from the comfort of his own home, he clicked play on the tape.

That's how Jon ended up on the bathroom floor. He didn’t know Tim had recorded a statement before they went to the museum. Turning it on to listen to it, he was shocked to hear Tim’s voice. He thought he had just grabbed a statement Tim recorded or something. He was almost happy to listen to his old coworker’s (friend’s? potential partner’s?) voice. But as he listened, he realized that it wasn’t that at all.

_“I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it… well, he’d better have the guts to do it.”_

Next thing he knew he was reaching for the toilet. Everything hurt as he laid down on the bathroom floor, the hard tile pressing against his back. His head was pounding, but the tape kept playing.

_“I don’t know if I want to.”_

He knew Tim wasn’t doing great. Far from it really. But maybe if Jon had checked in with Tim. Or told Tim not to come. Or told Tim just how much he meant to him. Or did anything other than just let him walk into the battle he didn’t care about surviving.

Scenarios that would have let Tim live played over in Jon's head for hours. He hadn’t eaten since he first listened to the tape, and he had only moved enough to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. His stomach twisted in sickness and the smoke floated above him. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted the pain to stop, to just trade places with Tim and have some peace and quiet.

…

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up to his alarm, still laying on the cold tile. As much as his body cried out in protest, he forced himself to get up. He went through the motions of getting ready, numbly showering and forcing down toast that felt like cardboard in his mouth. His mind was blank as he got dressed, barely paying attention to what he was putting on. He left his flat and headed to the last place he wanted to go; the Institute. The Archivist didn’t have time to be weak. He left the tape at home, knowing that after work, he would play it again.


End file.
